


Tenderness

by Severina



Category: Dawn of the Dead (2004)
Genre: comm: talking_muses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-20
Updated: 2006-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“No, no, you’re right,” he says. “We should never exercise. It’s not like the cannibalistic undead are camped out on our doorstep waiting to chase us down and devour us or anything."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tenderness

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJ's "talking_muses" comm.  
> Prompt: Tender

“Jeeeesus.” Monica hisses in a sharp breath and glares across the room at Michael. Michael continues chatting with Terry, oblivious to Monica’s death glare. That pisses her off even more than the gash on her knee.

“Sorry.” CJ’s eyes meet hers briefly before he returns his attention to her leg.

“ ‘We’ve got to stay in shape’ “, Monica mocks, still glowering at Michael. She’s one to hold a grudge. Just a little.

“He’s right,” CJ says, and Monica turns the full force of her glare in his direction. Better men than _mall security guards_ have wilted like hothouse flowers under the force of that gaze.

CJ just grins.

Maybe mall security guards are made of stronger stuff than she imagined.

CJ slides the bottle of iodine across the table and presses the bandage gently in place. It never occurred to her that he would be gentle. “No, no, you’re right,” he says. “We should never exercise. It’s not like the cannibalistic undead are camped out on our doorstep waiting to chase us down and devour us or anything. Michael never should have suggested it. You want me to have him killed?”

Monica looks away.

“I can,” CJ continues. He leans forward conspiratorially and whispers, “I know people.”

She wants to huff about the way he is edging into her personal space, toss her hair prettily and flounce off, but she finds the corners of her lips turning up instead.

CJ leans back on his haunches. “You know what cures gashed knees?” He doesn’t wait for a response. “Ice cream.”

Monica rolls her eyes. “Yeah. The closest we‘ve got to ice cream in this shithole is…” CJ’s grin gets a little wider, and Monica stops. Smiles wickedly. “You don’t.”

“There _may_ be a small freezer located somewhere on the premises that certain take-charge types haven’t come across yet.”

“And perhaps you’d be willing to share this bounty with someone who’s been tragically injured in the line of duty?” Monica’s eyes sparkle. Ice cream should have been a thing of the past, like sipping champagne while listening to Billie Holliday, or getting a decent manicure.

“Perhaps.” CJ levers himself to his feet and holds out a hand for her. “But there’s something you’ve got to do for me first.”

The elation whooshes from her body like a stuck balloon. She should be used to it, she thinks, but for some reason she let her guard down. Her hand is still held lightly in his, and she inwardly curses those gentle fingers and that soft grip… the way he deftly plucked all the grit from her wound and didn’t mock her when she winced… the way he made her think he was different from the rest.

“What?” she manages to grit out.

“Let me teach you how to do a decent jumping jack. Fuck, you looked like you were having a seizure.”

Her smile is immediate and full and _real_ , maybe the first real smile that she’s given since the whole ordeal began. She squeezes his hand and lets her fingers curl around his. “Deal.”


End file.
